


break the silence (before it breaks you)

by Brie (Kura)



Series: Let The World Know [2]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Dean's POV after Seth's betrayal, Friendship, Heartbreak, M/M, Mood Swings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 15:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1749923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kura/pseuds/Brie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a war waging inside of Dean's mind and Seth trying to reach out to him doesn't make things better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	break the silence (before it breaks you)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, as soon as I had finished the first part I knew that I couldn't leave this alone. So I planned out three more parts to give each (former) member of The Shield the chance to deal with things or explain them. There will also be the Smackdown fallout in future parts. For more updates and such tings you can go [here](http://www.tumblr.com/blog/ambrollinsgirl) =)

Roman is lying on his stomach, wincing quietly from time to time, trying to reach his back, just to drop his hand again because there is absolutely nothing he can do about the condition of it.

Dean watches his every move with burning eyes (he hasn't cried, no, he won't give that traitor this kind of satisfaction, refuses to give him so much power over Dean, but fatigue is clawing at his consciousness, begging him to get some rest), not sure if he expects Roman to disappear into thin air or jump up, laughing like a maniac to smash the night table on his head.

He's acting a bit paranoid, he is fully aware of that, but after last night he thinks he's entitled to some little mistrust. Roman hasn't done a thing to deserve it, but neither had _he_.

Well, not counting the third of March, of course. Walking out on a tag in the middle of a match is one thing and Dean had been generous enough to not forget but at least forgive that, but stabbing your brothers in the back and attacking them with the arch-enemy is just too much.

That two-toned freak has destroyed more than can ever be fixed.

Roman groans a bit louder than usual, disturbing Dean's downward spiral of hateful emotions and thoughts for a brief moment and before he can even think clearly (he's too tired to do that anyway), he's up and walking over to the bed, grabbing the tube of ointment from the adjacent bathroom on his way and flops down gracelessly.

He's not missing the way Roman inches away from him before his brain can catch up with his body and he wills his limbs to stay still.

Roman has already taken some pain killers but his back is seriously in bad shape, so Dean does the only thing that feels natural to him. God, he's done this a million times by now, it's maybe more some kind of muscle memory than anything else.

He pours a bit of the cool gel onto his hand and rubs it tentatively over Roman's bruises. They haven't said a word to each other since Roman's tweet about dead trust and he's not entirely sure his help is even welcomed but he has to admit that he likes this feeling of normalcy.

He can almost convince himself that someone else is in the bathroom, showering and singing some song Dean has never heard of (and never wants to again) horribly off-tune but charming anyway.

If he concentrates hard enough it's almost enough to believe that any second now he will see well-known and delicately defined abs before they get hidden by that stupid white hotel towel and a certain someone leaves wet footprints in their room as if he owns this place.

 _Almost_.

All he can really see before his eyes, all that is constantly replaying in his head like there's no tomorrow is the disbelief flooding his mind when Roman went down and hit the ropes next to him but Triple H and Randy Orton were still standing on the ramp.

It was in that moment, when his gaze met that traitor's, that he could hear his heart shatter, his entire world being turned upside down.

He has made the mistake of letting that bearded kid into his life after his first display of betrayal – arguing with being fed up with him and Roman always fighting (ugh, seriously?) –, has vowed to himself to be careful but has fallen for that idiot once again nonetheless. Harder, faster and stronger than the first time back in 2011 and the second after their TLC match in 2012.

He even has filed away the exact moments. (July 3rd he first laid his eyes on Seth, acknowledged his mere existence due to their feud. But he really fell for him, started to respect that bastard during their first match ever. The Iron Man match in August. Even though Dean didn't win the title he still felt like he had just won every damn wrestling title in the world.

Then there was that fateful night shortly after his birthday and he clearly remembers how the youngest of them hugged him after the PPV, in the shadows of the night, long and joyous, yelling into his ear something about beating the monster – he either meant Kane or his inner demons, Dean still isn't sure about that one – and flat out kissed him.

Roman had laughed it off a bit awkwardly, but Dean had known it was more than just a kiss to celebrate their victory. He thinks that Roman understood that as soon as he didn't get one. He has to smile at the memory, something in him snapping in half doing so, because Roman's face had been priceless. He surely was only one second away from asking where his fucking kiss was.)

And now he's here, sitting in a hotel room and feels like a part of his soul has been ripped from his body and got burnt to ashes right in front of his eyes. No chance of ever getting it back.

Dean had thought that after their Summit it'd be different. That pouring his heart and soul into this building relationship was the right thing to do because _he_ was definitely worth it. (And that's just how Dean does things. It's either all or nothing.)

He hates himself even more because he'd been so stupid. He really should have known better. He's so pathetic, clinging to that shithead even though life tends to screw him over every time he thinks he's finally made it.

Roman is still here, but there's this lingering threat of losing him too. Or, and that's just as bad, of abandoning him like that kid did.

He sighs inwardly and nods to himself when he's done with spreading the ointment, eager to scramble away from Roman as if the sheer proximity hurts him.

He can see Roman reaching out for him, maybe wanting him to stay, to share his thoughts and burdens because right now, they're going through this betrayal together.

But Dean can't. He knows that ninja asswipe has broken them both and yet it feels like he has to deal with this on his own. Roman loves them – only him now, he guesses – like his own flesh and blood but what Dean and you know who had shared was different.

He scoffs, realizing a bit proudly (more like totally saddened) how he already thinks of them as something of the past.

Not that they ever really happened. They had been close to since TLC. At first, it had been Dean wanting to take it slow, getting to know the other better outside of the ring and their work before he could move on to something that was real and serious.

Dean hates commitments, feels trapped by them, caged and controlled but after dancing around that doe-eyed fucker for over a year after that first kiss he had felt ready for it. Knew that he was in too deep; drawn to the other like a magnet, already enjoying the constant push and pull. He could have drowned in that fucker's everything.

But then that jackass walked out on him while the Wyatts beat the living crap out of him. He huffs, thinking about how helpless and angry he had felt back then and how it should have told him that he couldn't, _shouldn't_ , trust anyone with his heart.

But that smiling, cute dick had convinced him that it was a mistake, his stupid way to prove something and Dean had punched him for that pretty good in that ring. Man, that had felt like heaven. Payback's a bitch.

Oh, why did he just do that? Why did he remind himself of a night that now seems like a lifetime ago? When their world was still okay. Though they had probably been lied at for months now and didn't even realize it. They have been so blind.

All of a sudden he hears that sell out's voice ringing painfully in his head, talking about unity, brotherhood, about strength and family. (Dean has to tell himself that it has been a lie. All of it. If he starts asking himself when and why that idiot turned on them, he'll never be able to let it go.)

Mere seconds later he has hit Roman with the chair and stared down Dean as if to ask _You with me or not?_. Dean hasn't even thought about that unspoken offer, the unforgiving stare of those normally so soft, brown eyes all he could concentrate on.

Dean was desperately trying to not break down in front of all those people, in front of _him_ , even though his whole being screamed for a dark hole he could crawl into to die.

And then his body had just taken over, sensing that his brain and heart were out of the picture, torn in so many ways they were irreparable. He had not even wanted to hurt his brother – former brother – but the decision had been taken out of his hands when that chair hit him in the stomach.

He would never be able to get rid of the dark look in those usually so warm and loving eyes. That hateful, ruthless stare would haunt him in his dreams and be the bane of his existence.

His whole life is in ruins now, the future he had been so eager to experience nothing more than an illusion. It has all been fake. Every word, every touch, every stolen kiss.

Dean has been fooled twice by the same man and he himself is the only one to blame for that. He will never make the same mistake again.

He has learned to ignore the urge to be the lone wolf because he wanted to be part of this little family. Dean has _wanted_ it to work more than he cares to admit.

He has absolutely no idea what was going on in that stupidly pretty head. He thought he knew the other but recent events have made it damn clear that he knows nothing at all.

Two and a half years down the drain. He is so done with trusting people.

Roman's hand finally retreats, having hung in the air for too long without being noticed and Dean feels a little pang of something he can't quite place in his chest, making it hard to breathe.

He doesn't apologize for being a dick when they should try to piece together their broken souls and work this out; because that's what they always do. Dean has said it so many times, has sworn that they could be beaten to death but that they would rise again. No matter what.

He didn't know that getting stabbed in the back by someone you were stupid enough to really love from the bottom of your heart could change everything.

Dean sits down on the couch again, back turned to Roman (and if that doesn't say it all), watching the sun go down over God knows where.

He is in the middle of a heated argument with himself (what the fuck was he supposed to do on Smackdown? How should he react when that wanna-be Pegasus crosses his path? Dean has not really any energy left to even bother with violence even though he wants to freaking bash the other's head in. Just to prove a point. He doesn't even know which one but he thinks it'll feel that damn good) when his phone chimes and an all too familiar voice screams at him.

_Sierra_ . Hotel. India.  _Echo_ . Lima. Delta. Shield.

Wrong. It's all just wrong. It sounds wrong, it feels wrong. It's an abomination. And it pisses him off that his own phone is in on this conspiracy against him.

He's suddenly so pumped up with ire that he almost throws the phone out of the fucking window, just to dive after it.

Roman hisses with pain and sits up, the words obviously on the tip of his tongue. Dean can tell they're coming, can practically feel them punching him in the gut over and over again. But he's unable to stop them.

He knows that Roman is afraid and just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Dean to leave him too. Because of what he and that bastard had or didn't have or almost had. Fuck if he knows.

Dean can't even calm his worries. He'd never side with Evolution (that much is crystal clear) but he is not sure that the two of them have any future ahead of them.

Roman wants to ask about the text even though he knows the answer already. And maybe it's time to break the silence which doesn't mean that Dean is very eager to do it. But he guesses that he owes Roman.

He doesn't grab his phone because he actually needs that – and no matter how pissed he is at  _him_ having the audacity to text him, he won't damage it in a fit of rage – but he jumps up and catches hold of a vase.

Roman doesn't even flinch when it crashes against the wall, doesn't blink when Dean yells  _Fuck_ with all the energy he has left and kicks at every piece of furniture surrounding him.

'That Seth?'

He's pretty sure that this time Roman does shy back for a split second when he whips his head around and shoots him a glare he just knows is full of hatred. Not exactly directed at Roman but at the choice of words.

Dean has successfully avoided to even think of _his_ name since yesterday, has tried to erase it with the torn up pieces of his whole being and now Roman just throws it at him, drops the S-bomb that pains him more than that fucking curb stomp on the steel chair.

He nods and stares at his cell on the table, his breath leaving his lungs in quick, erratic puffs, making him wheeze against his will. Now that he's started he wants to smash more things, wants to let the world know how much he is hurting and how he will overcome this one day.

He wants to see blood, wants to taste it on his tongue. _Needs_ to get his hands on that son of a bitch and just decimate him in the ring (because he definitely does not want to have anything to do with that guy outside of work ever again) and leave him rendered helpless for once.

'Yeah,' he eventually answers, still not moving, just glaring at his phone as if it'll delete the text by itself.

He can hear sheets rustling – Roman is getting up or at least is trying to – but Dean shakes his head and holds out two fingers, wiggling them in a way that tells his brother to stay behind. He can't have Roman at his side right now.

Not when he's still yearning for somebody to destroy. He might have a lot of rage and hatred bottled up inside of him, but he also knows that Roman has done nothing at all.

But Roman is stubborn (something all three of them share) and if he can't have his will, he's gonna prod and bend reality until he gets what he wants.

'You gonna read it?'

He huffs, lips twisting into a bizarre imitation of a smile and Dean thinks it might look a tad cruel (or just horribly woeful). Yet he doesn't turn around, afraid of finding empathy, understanding and brotherly love in Roman's bright eyes.

He needs to get out of here, get rid of this rage poisoning his brain, but he stays where he is, eyes fixed on the phone. That kid has always been able to draw him in and Dean still can't tell how exactly he manages to do so. But it's bugging him that he has so much control over him.

'What's he saying?'

Roman can see very clearly that Dean hasn't read the text – hasn't even moved – but he asks anyway, because he's curious enough to want to know what that shithead has to say.

Dean couldn't care less. No matter what pathetic excuse the other will come up with this time, it's not gonna change a thing. Dean is done with broken hearts. That dumbass will never be crushing his again.

Monday night, June 2nd, 2014, was the last time someone stabbed him. From now on he won't be trusting anyone ever again. That deceiver has ruined him forever and there is absolutely nothing he can do or say (in a stupid fucking text message, for fuck's sake) that will bring Dean back to him.

Seth fucking Rollins has made him weak, vulnerable, turned him into someone who would have loved to come home to a partner, cook something together and just cuddle on the couch afterwards. God, he's so pathetic.

No, Dean Ambrose will never stumble again. Seth cut him to pieces but if he has learned anything from all of this then it's to hold his head high and be done with taking lies from his (almost lover, friend, brother) whatever.

There's nothing Dean will keep from Seth – he'll burn it all down, just like the younger did when he embraced Evolution –, nothing he'll cherish from him (he'll get over the heartache in no time, he's stronger than this).

'Does it really matter?' He finally spits out, voice dripping with anguish and he bites down on his tongue for allowing this weakness to come to life. Even his body is betraying him.

Roman stays silent after that and Dean can hear him lie down again, face probably buried in the pillow. He can't even begin to say how thankful he is for Roman giving him enough space to breathe and deal with Seth's text on his own.

It is almost enough to extinguish the raging fire burning inside of him, to calm the storm confusing Dean's soul. It's up to him now to decide what to do with that message, and no matter what he does, Roman won't call him out on it.

He really wishes he could appreciate that friendly gesture. But Dean's self-preservation has kicked in hours ago and makes him now doubt every little thing. He's made the mistake of taking their unity for granted and now that is biting him in the ass relentlessly.

His cell is still resting on the table, and its utter existence is taunting him, teasing him he's too afraid to open a goddamn text.

And he is. He fucking is.

He can't even bother with trying to get some control back over his shaking fingers. He just starts pacing again, stomping on splintered wood and shards of the vase, eyes always fixed on that stupid device.

He will have to do this sooner or later. (He will also have to change his ringtone. Actually, he and Roman will have to re-do their intro and... well, _if_ they're going to be continuing as partners.) The longer he waits, the more it'll upset him.

And he's so god damn tired. Of Seth and life and getting stabbed in the back and loving someone who obviously doesn't love you back, who was just playing with your feelings. Thanks for that, fuckhead.

He taps at his phone angrily and skims over the message. It's as stupid and puny as he had imagined. He even has to laugh out loud – nasty and sarcastic and Roman surely understands everything just by listening to that – before he deletes the text without answering back.

Seth is not even worth of his time. And yet, all he can think about is that fucker. He's in Dean's head, has intoxicated him, made Dean all mushy and lovey-dovey. He hates it.

(But there's still that little part of Dean yearning for him, trying to excuse Seth's actions just to convince Dean to go back, to sort it out again. He's loved that douchebag more than he even thought he was able to. Still does. Which makes this so much more worse.

He can't stop thinking about how Seth always sacrificed his health and career to save them, how he has been talking about blind trust and how the two of them have moved in the ring as if their minds and bodies were one, just to treat them like ditchable prom dates at Raw.

It's driving him insane that he doesn't know how much _any_ of it – of _them_ – has been fake. And he fucking hates that he has to be thankful that Seth hasn't screwed him before he, well, screwed him.)

'Guess he's sorry,' Dean summarizes Seth's words, flopping down on the couch, wrapping himself up in a blanket. The moonlight shining in through the windows reminds him that he hasn't slept in over 44 hours.

Which makes it so much easier to blame the exhaustion for deleting Seth's contact info without even hesitating one second.

'You're right. Doesn't matter.' Roman's voice is muffled by the pillow but Dean can hear the disappointment nonetheless. He completely understands it. A simple _Oh sorry, did I break your back and your heart as well?_ doesn't cut it this time. It's not good enough.

'Yeah,' he says automatically, voice sounding foreign and hollow even to himself. He's lost all his will to fight, the burning rage dying out in seconds. It's like he's standing in that ring again, unable to process what Seth has done, not sure if he should attack him or help Roman.

He's never felt so trapped in his own body before.

'Will you answer him?' Roman wants to know, but it's more likely that he just intends to keep Dean's mind occupied. He's probably happy that they're talking again and doesn't care about the words spoken.

As long as they're both avoiding the subject of their future, Dean is fine with it. He's not thrilled to be forced to share his thoughts about traitors but it's a start. Maybe he really has changed – not only because of Seth – and is now capable of solving problems not just with violence but also with words.

It's worth a shot. What has he left to lose anyway?

He throws the phone back on the table, relieved and horrified that he has deleted everything Seth from it, and lies down on the couch, running his hands over his sore belly.

Will he answer Seth? Does he even want to know his reasons? A part of him screams _Yes! Yes! Yes!_ like there's a little Daniel Bryan running around in his head, trying to influence his decision.

'Nope,' he manages to grit out and adds, just for good measure, 'I'm done.'

They both know he's not. Won't be for a while. Maybe he'll never be but he's trying so hard, is giving his best. (And maybe, _maybe_ , things can be sorted out a second time, because he's not willing to let go of Seth just that easily and go through that arduous challenge of finding someone new to love.

The bond they shared is broken, can't be fixed again, but there's something in Dean that thinks there can be forged a new one, given enough time for his scars to heal.)

He slaps himself hard in the face, once, twice – and loses count around twenty-seven – until two strong hands wrap around his own and stop him from hurting himself over and over again. 'Don't,' Roman barely whispers. 'He's not worth it.'

Except that he totally is.

Dean manages a crooked smile that hurts his face and makes Roman pat him gently on the shoulder. It's awfully quiet for a while, both of them just staring into each other's eyes, until Roman – being the good, older brother Dean admires so much – breaks the ice, really breaks it for the first time since Seth slid out of the ring to grab two steel chairs.

'He gave you a Piece of Mind,' that fucker says, grinning mischievously while walking back to the bed like he hasn't just reminded Dean of one of the most painful moments of his life.

'Ro, that's so not funny' he complains, surprised how easy it is to fall back into their usual banter. (He ignores the nagging feeling that this time, if things escalate, there's no one there to step in between.)

He hears a thin laugh from his brother and realizes in that moment that Roman tries very hard to cheer him up. To make things better baby step by baby step. That he still wants to be Dean's partner.

'It's a little funny.'

'Shut up, and go to sleep,' he counters, no real heat behind his words. He is eternally grateful when Roman switches off the light on the night table and darkness embraces him.

Piece of mind my ass, he thinks bitterly. It's ironic though, isn't it? Dean's mind has never been reeling this badly before.

An hour passes and Dean finally manages to relax enough to consider falling asleep when Roman's voice echoes through the room, trying to be soothing but ripping him away from peaceful slumber once again. 'You're not alone.'

Then why does it feel like he's the loneliest man in the world?

* * *

Roman is sleeping soundlessly – thankfully not able to snore in his current position – for a couple of hours now and Dean can already tell that the sun is going to rise soon.

He's been lying on the couch all night, not yet confident enough to share his space with Roman again (and he doesn't want to lie there and think of the missing third body), mulling over Seth's text and Roman's question if he'll answer him.

There are more points speaking against it, he knows, but he can't stop his hands from reaching for his phone, typing out three words before he adds the number that he'll hopefully soon forget and taps the send button.

The last thing he hears, before his eyes finally start to droop, is Seth's voice in his head, asking him, 'Are we done here or are we _done_?'


End file.
